Capture Confusion
by LilyGhost
Summary: As usual, an apprehension doesn't go as planned, but this one leaves Stephanie more upset than scared.


**Since I've already shared more than anyone probably needed to read about with my mom's health issue, I figured I might as well go ahead and tackle my dad's type of Dementia in something, too. Once again, I tried to keep it relevant to the Plum world. Everyone familiar belongs to Janet.**

I clearly don't have control of this apprehension, I thought to myself, as the two men continued to shout at each other. In my defense, things were already out of control before I even arrived on-scene. Even from where I'm sitting, I can see that one guy is so pissed, his face is beet-red as he tried to lure the other one out into the street so he wouldn't get busted for assaulting someone on private property.

That was bad in itself, but the second guy - today's intended capture recipient - while swearing too, wasn't making a whole lot of sense. I've seen some weird shit since I began working for my pervert cousin, but this is more in the ballpark of _psychological_ rather than _homicidal_ , which is where my expertise lies.

"I need reinforcements," is what I told Ranger two minutes ago when I'd called him.

I like to do things on my own when I can, but I've learned that even the best bounty hunter needs backup every once in awhile.

"Me or the cops?" He'd asked.

"This time both. Plus a possible ambulance ... something doesn't feel right."

"Stay inside your vehicle. I'm on my way."

I had every intention of doing that, just listening to the men through my partially open car window, until a boy who looked to be around eleven came out of a neighboring house and started watching the fight intently. No child should have to see adults behaving like children. I leaned forward, testing the strap of my seat belt, trying to spot a parent who should be protecting their kid from crap like this, not tell him to go play right in the middle of it.

I took my eyes off the boy for a second to check out the yard belonging to the house directly across from the current action. I'm assuming this kind of 'disturbance' must be normal for this neighborhood if all the kids and one father were standing around waiting to see what happens next.

I may not have had the best role models when it comes to parental concern, but even _I_ know a volatile situation is no place for anyone's kid. I got out of my POS car and carefully approached the two arguing men. Thankfully, they were still about twenty feet and one trespassing law apart. Despite whatever's wrong mentally with my FTA, he knew to stay in his own yard, yet he did keep moving closer to his screaming neighbor.

" _Hey!_ " I shouted to everyone. "Knock it off. There are kids watching you."

My interruption had absolutely no effect on my skip, but the screaming neighbor immediately redirected his anger and started in on me. "That asshole runs his mouth every fucking time I step out of my house, accusing me of all sorts of shit I never did. And I'm fucking sick of it."

"So your brilliant solution to the problem is to try to get him pissed enough to come after you so you can beat the crap out of him?"

"He fucking deserves it. He's _nuts!_ "

I was keeping some distance from the men and the situation ... so me, mouthy neighbor, and confusing FTA, formed a large triangle. I could tell that my skip, while still mumbling, swearing, and complaining, appeared to be talking at whoever or whatever was moving, not at one specific person.

"It is possible that if _you_ stop swearing," I suggested to the neighbor, "he'll stop shouting obscenities back in your direction."

"He won't. He just rambles on that I stole his something or other, or that I owe him money, every Goddamn time I'm outside when he is. We were sorta friendly a while ago, but I haven't had anything to do with him in _years_."

"Is he on something?"

"I don't think so, he's just screwy."

Excellent diagnosis. Good thing he doesn't work for a suicide hotline, I thought with a glare.

"I told him I'm calling the cops if he doesn't shut his face, but he only got louder."

"Could be he was trying to be heard over _your_ ranting," I pointed out.

"The fucker deserves whatever he gets."

I decided that if Ranger or the cops don't get here soon, I'm just going to shoot him. My skip was temporarily forgotten as I tried to figure out what kind of asshole would try to assault someone he thinks is mentally-impaired. You call the family if you know them or the police ... not go all Wild West on the guy.

"Who does the boy belong to?" I asked, turning my head towards the unchaperoned kid climbing on a fence nearby.

The boy was dividing his attention between us and my FTA.

"He's the crazy guy's grandson."

"So why is he out here watching this?"

"Damned if I know. From what I've heard about the mother, this would be free entertainment to her. The whole family is crazy in one way or another."

I walked a few feet away. I'm done getting advice from Dr. Phil here, so I focused most of my attention on the boy now that my FTA was finally heading away from the street and all the commotion.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Stephanie. What's your name?"

"Mason."

"Where are your parents?"

He pointed to a blue house behind us. "There."

"So why are _you_ out _here_?"

He shrugged. "Is Grandpa acting weird again?"

"He's your grandfather?"

"Yeah. Dad's his son and Mom says both are crazy."

I'm _really_ getting sick of that word. Crazy means psychopathic to me, not someone who is _confused_ but _harmless_... or _great_ yet _misunderstood_. Morelli used the C-word every chance he could when he 'discussed' Ranger or my Rangeguys ... and my hackles still go up whenever I hear anyone being called it unfairly.

"What do _you_ say?" I asked him.

Another shrug. "Grandpa used to be okay, but then he started repeating everything he said. Now he just gets mad at everybody and yells at nobody. I check sometimes, but I never see anyone bugging him."

"Does he get mad at _you_?"

"No."

I let out a relieved sigh. _Adults_ have trouble understanding and being sympathetic when it comes to mental health issues, never mind a child trying to figure it out.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked him. He looked at me suspiciously. "It's nothing bad. Can you just go back inside your house until I've gotten everyone calmed down?"

I saw a black Porsche turn onto the street and my shoulders slumped in relief. I can be brave and in charge for a child's sake, but Batman is brave and in control _period._ He'll know what to do here.

"What's gonna happen to Grandpa?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but he's probably going to go see a doctor."

"Is he sick? I thought he was just confused and loud."

"I don't know what he is yet, but if you go back inside, I promise to find out."

"Okay."

I was mentally cursing the parents who didn't care what seeing a member of his own family in handcuffs, or worse, would do to him. I've always questioned whether or not I could be a good mother, but I know for damn sure I'd be a hell of a lot better than who Mason got stuck with.

Once I saw his front door close behind him, and while Ranger was parking, I went to speak with the across-the-street neighbor who'd been watching the action with his kids. _This_ man was at least quiet, but he'd been holding a baseball bat the entire time, so once again I kept my distance.

Ranger had already reached me before the guy could even start talking.

"The police and ambulance are en route," Ranger told me. "What happened?"

"When I got here, those two," I said, pointing first to my FTA and then towards the angry neighbor who was back in his own yard but was still outside, "were already in the middle of a verbal fight. Neighbor-guy wanted to switch that to a _physical_ one, but my skip had enough sense to stay on his own property. Pissed-off neighbor wasn't willing to risk an arrest so he stayed in the street."

"Why aren't you in your car?" He asked me.

Of course my safety is all he's concerned about. "The people who live there," I said, pointing the same way to the same house Mason did, "thought it was perfectly fine to let their son watch their grandfather get beat up or arrested, and I wasn't the least bit okay with that."

Given what Julie had to witness between Ranger and Scrog, I knew he wouldn't be angry about me taking a slight risk if it involved protecting a child.

"I know both guys," the sightseeing dad said, not picking up on the fact that _his_ kids shouldn't be seeing this either. "And I saw the whole thing. I don't know what's wrong with him, but Mickey," he jerked his thumb towards my skip, "just wanders around the neighborhood ... swearing to himself, threatening to punch some guy out, or accusing random people of breaking into his place and stealing and selling his things. He," this time gesturing to the pissed-off neighbor I'd spoken to, "got fed up with it and told him to shut up already from his back deck. Things escalated from there."

"How did he go from the back of his house to the middle of the street?" Ranger asked, which is what I wanted to know, too.

"He was angry and was just trying to shut him up. To be honest, we all appreciate it. Whatever's wrong with Mickey's head has become a huge pain in all of our asses. If he sees you, he just starts shouting in your direction. Half the time I don't believe he even knows who he's swearing at. Not only does he say stuff that scares my kids, I think he's dangerous to live near. A few months back, the guy he let stay with him was arrested for possession and selling stolen guns. And just last week Mickey was being chased up the street by a different guy, who was punching and kicking him whenever he got close enough to. The man who lives in the first house on the street called the cops to put a stop to it. The police are here every other day because of Mickey."

"Seriously ... if it weren't for knowing you and the guys," I said to Ranger, "I'd swear all men need babysitters. They think fighting solves everything."

"It's been my experience that it does solve almost everything, but the instinct to beat down a threat, or sometimes just an annoyance, can only be controlled by those who want it to be," he replied.

I could hear and see sirens heading our way and I started preparing myself for the explanation I'll now have to give Vinnie. As I watched my skip pace back and forth with a rake in his hand, still talking to someone who isn't there, I accepted defeat. Jail isn't where this guy belongs and thank God I won't have to be the one deciding what the alternative is.

Two police cruisers with flashing lights and one ambulance arrived on-scene and my stomach suddenly felt made of stone as I had to watch this play out. If the neighbor had just gone back inside, things wouldn't have reached this point. I probably would've assumed Mickey Vicari, who'd been arrested for entering a house that wasn't his - which makes an eerie kind of sense now - was just drunk or high. I would've cuffed him and given the TPD the job of deciding what to do with him. They're involved now, but under different circumstances. This skip probably didn't even know a court date existed, let alone appear at one without someone picking him up and walking him into the courthouse.

"I really hate my job sometimes," I said to Ranger as we watched one set of officers question the shouting neighbor, while the others flanked the paramedics as they went to determine how bad Vicari really is.

It took a solid twenty minutes of talking, cajoling, ordering, and at the end _patronizing_ , to get my skip anywhere near the ambulance. Only after the 'family' was finally contacted, and they had given the go-ahead for him to be taken, did that happen. I just prayed that Mason isn't near any open windows, because the last words I heard my skip - _his grandfather_ \- say after he was cuffed and was being pushed into the back of the ambulance were ... " _Get your hands off me!_ " and " _Let me go!_ "

I'm not sure why, but I suddenly flashbacked to when my grandpa died and seeing his body being wheeled out of the Mazur home and into the back of the undertaker's vehicle. I'd stood alone, away from the rest of my family, watching the undertaker drive off, whispering ... _"Bring him back"_ through choked-up breaths. Of course ... he couldn't be brought back, and I've never forgotten the feeling of knowing your life just irrevocably changed and there wasn't a fucking thing you could do about it.

It didn't seem fair that the fight-provoking neighbor was given nothing except a laugh and a sympathetic shoulder slap. There's obviously a lot of history here and I'm not sure I want to know what it is.

"Are you alright?" Ranger asked me, as everybody went back to their own lives. "You look like you're about to cry."

"I must be PMS-y, because I will if I'm not careful. It's just so sad to see someone's life ending like this."

"He's only being taken to the hospital for an evaluation, Babe, he hasn't died yet."

"Maybe not, but what kind of life does he have now? An involuntary commitment, and having to live life under lock and key, isn't going to be fun."

"It's safer for him that way."

"I know that, but does _he_?"

"No."

I blinked my eyes quickly, which I'm convinced dries up ready-to-fall tears, and then I looked up at him. "You aren't willing to lie to me about _anything_ , are you?"

"I try to be as honest as you can handle. If your FTA isn't protected from himself and the people he's pissing off, next time the medical examiner will be called instead of paramedics."

"That neighbor did say my skip was attacked last week."

"There are going to be things you can't fix, Steph. I know you'd like to solve everyone's problems, but not everybody can be saved."

I took a step forward and his arms closed reassuringly around me. "I need a margarita, birthday cake, and a rewatch of both Ghostbusters, to get over this day."

His head came down and he kissed my curls. "You can have all of that and more, Babe, but I think right now the only thing you need is _me_."

No truer words have ever been spoken. No one knows what they're going to be like in thirty years, or what will happen to them long before then, so savoring everything good in your life while you still have it should be mandatory ... and ever since I met him, Ranger has been the best part of mine.


End file.
